American Gladiator was a stupid show. I hated it. I don’t know why. I just do. I like regular gladiators from the past. Just not American Gladiators. They don’t even have weapons. They’re all nice and stuff.
gladiator sandals and red shirts. long braided hair and jean shorts. thats what modern day teenage valkyries wear. they shout down the catcallers. they run after assailers. they are always drunk, always strong, always willing to give you a ride to where you need to go.
MJ
strength of a lion
golden like the sun
baring the scars of a life hard lived
of battles hard won
you stand in the area
victorious
waiting for the maiden to offer a token
A gladiotor i was. They say gladiators are so agressive but im actually a very sensitive guy. I like knitting, cooking, and espicially oprah man that women is a genius. I mean us gladiators have feelings too. It just makes me so upset when a guy tries to fight me . Like really bro what the hell did i do to you. And then the go off which just requires me to rip there head off. Its so upsetting.
Laurel
Loving playing with matches, fascinated with gas, Bobby became bored. Growing careless, he accidentally set the city on fire, urging, don’t try this at home. Scared, he began walking, faster, running like heck when Lieutenant Lancaster started shooting at him. He missed, but it didn’t matter.
He stood there in his armor, holding his sword and shield in an arena full of people, feeling lonelier than ever before. He knew that all these people here were rooting for him to die a spectacularly bloody and brutal death against whatever kind of monster he’ll have to face now. And for the first time ever, he wondered at the pure sadism that are his people to cheer at the death of one of their own for entertainment.
I don’t care for the movie at all, nor its blood soaked spawn, spartacus. The history is fascinating, but the bromance of violence overlooks the life of slavery, of infestation, of pain and fear. Being forced to fight and die, not even or, isn’t romance.
Gladiatoren – weißt du noch, die Filme mit großen Menschenmengen in aufwändigen Rüstungen. Die Löwen, die hinter Gittern brüllten und der Kaiser auf seinem rotsamtenen und goldenen Thron. Alle warteten darauf, dass er das Startsignal gab, damit das Morden beginnen konnte.
The word “gladiator” always reminds me of Russel Crow. Until therelease of that movie, I had never heard that wrd before. I have never really watched the movie in its entirety but I believe from what I remember about it that it is a good one.
sy
His hands confused me. But he was perfect. And he had fought. But all he was was beautiful.
I remember when she thought she was the hippest sixth grader with her gladiator sandals, because she was into greek mythology at the time. Times have changed I guess, as gladiator sandals became a trend and I suppose so did she.
And as I look into the future, I don’t even know what I should be seeing.
I had a dream that I was a fierce gladiator. Numerous people tried to test their strength against me, and they were all met with the fatal blow of defeat. I was the most known person in the land. Until someone else came.
One fateful spring morning, Mary opened the closet door and found a castle. Mary had seen a few castles on her trip to Europe with her Uncle, but this castle…it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; a grand, white and gold structure with huge towers and lots of stained glass windows. Surrounding the castle was an enormous forest that seemed to stretch on for miles. The trees were large with many thick branches–good for climbing. Mary stared up at them in awe, marveling at the way the sun glanced off of their fragile leaves. At this point, Mary’s head was inside the strange place but her feet remained firmly on the white plush carpeting in the doorframe. “So this is it…” Mary whispered, looking at the beauty around her. Golden birds trilled, rainbow colored fish splashed in a pond full of diamonds. The towering trees had faces, and the beautiful castle seemed to call to her, it’s front door opening to reveal a grand staircase and marble. “One step, and it’s mine!” Mary exclaimed in both excitement and fear. Timidly, slowly, she took two steps into the beautiful world in front of her…
Golden. And lions. And noise. Eyes. Waiting for blood, thirsty fists.
At what point did I stop fighting, did I start realizing myself in the margin, the survivor? When did I accept myself as the victim, and not the victor? Because as soon as I gave into the notion, the rest of the world did too.
You have all the weapons you need, girl.
Now stop yer bitchin’ and fight.
“Fight
Fight
Fight
Fight on!”
That is what my beloved brother once told me
To fight like there is no tomorrow
To fight like I am fighting for love
To fight forever and ever,
But I wish to stop this fighting
There seems no point.
None.
Money isn’t something worth fighting for.
All I can think about is those stupid sandals that every chick’s been wearing for a few months now. Ok, not EVERY chick. But for some reason, they tend to end up on the feet of the kind of chick I’d like to kick into the fountain at the mall.
M'ai Vox
a gladiator is a person who fights somebody… when i think of a gladiator i think of an orange… ya… random… i dont even know… :D
Gladiator reminds me of when Ryan and I used to watch Spartacus together. We were young and so in love, with so much in common. Especially an affinity for sex and fighting. But the good news is I don’t watch it anymore, not since we broke up, so it doesn’t bring me back and make me hurt.
Gladiators remind me of how Ryan and I used to watch Spartacus. Those were good days, and he was a good guy. I still miss him sometimes. I will get over it though, and that day just may be very, very soon. Then again though, you never really get over your first love, or so I hear.
Elizabeth
A hundred men stood upon the battle field, surrounded by a thousand spectators – all in it to see blood spilled upon the ground, a show of blood, guts, and bravery. The life of each gladiator was in the hands of the emperor.
Did gladiators eat sandwiches? Did, even once, a gladiator perform water ballet for a nun? Or did gladiators ever kiss one another saying, “My prince, my prince” in falsetto? These are my questions.
she walked into the room with a look in her eye i’ve never seen before. a new leaf had turned, and her aura was that of a proud and courageous gladiator.
Slowly, the pair circled each other, limbs twitching slightly as if psyching up to the main event. The bigger of the two was jet black and shining in the afternoon sun. Wolf, they called him. The smaller one, Jackal, had tawny brown hair and chunky legs which tensed suddenly as he sprung into action in a heartbeat. Their arena was a jar, and the cheering audience four freckled boys with their elbows propped up on the long bench. The spider wars had begun.
RJay
and as you sat there losing the battle you wished not to surrender to. you were a soldier born to fight and grow with your smile and your strength against all odds. it was you, my gladiator, that conquered the most ground anyone ever had in my heart.
That wolf had something. My mean ole stepmother deserved everything she had coming and then some. She was a horrible woman who exacted misery upon everything she encountered with zeal and alacritude. I’m glad-he-ate-her.
I’m not sure if David and Goliath were gladiator’s but they might as well have been. If they were boxers, they wouldn’t be matched up because of size advantages. That’s not really a good way to match people up. A little guy who knows karate would probably ruin a big dude who’s got no skills.
he never wanted to become a gladiator, when he was a boy, he dreamt about being a gardener. He always loved the color of poppy. It was only later, he decovered their effect – it was too late. now he is a fighter and dreams of a red sea.
corinnele
Metallic pine needles and sorry silver thimbles cover the bottom of the waste basket. Then there is paper and more paper: whole, crumbled, torn, colored.
With my shoulder aching I swing, and swing and swing, clearing a path. There is just a mass of brush in front of me, no light, no clearing but the sword cuts through it all. I am strong and breathing. One day the clearing will come and I will rest. Things will find their places so there won’t be the need to fight and ache. For the moment just turning up and fighting is good enough.
American Gladiator was a stupid show. I hated it. I don’t know why. I just do. I like regular gladiators from the past. Just not American Gladiators. They don’t even have weapons. They’re all nice and stuff.
Fearless gladiator
Golden shining armor
Strong stature to support his
hardy and indestructible free will
but what is a gladiator without a shining soul to those who are weak?
gladiator sandals and red shirts. long braided hair and jean shorts. thats what modern day teenage valkyries wear. they shout down the catcallers. they run after assailers. they are always drunk, always strong, always willing to give you a ride to where you need to go.
strength of a lion
golden like the sun
baring the scars of a life hard lived
of battles hard won
you stand in the area
victorious
waiting for the maiden to offer a token
A gladiotor i was. They say gladiators are so agressive but im actually a very sensitive guy. I like knitting, cooking, and espicially oprah man that women is a genius. I mean us gladiators have feelings too. It just makes me so upset when a guy tries to fight me . Like really bro what the hell did i do to you. And then the go off which just requires me to rip there head off. Its so upsetting.
Loving playing with matches, fascinated with gas, Bobby became bored. Growing careless, he accidentally set the city on fire, urging, don’t try this at home. Scared, he began walking, faster, running like heck when Lieutenant Lancaster started shooting at him. He missed, but it didn’t matter.
The country burned up, then the world.
Bored, he became a gladiator. I am he.
Fiftyfourfiction.com
He stood there in his armor, holding his sword and shield in an arena full of people, feeling lonelier than ever before. He knew that all these people here were rooting for him to die a spectacularly bloody and brutal death against whatever kind of monster he’ll have to face now. And for the first time ever, he wondered at the pure sadism that are his people to cheer at the death of one of their own for entertainment.
gladiator sandals. a new fad in footwear. just one more example of how not only history, but fashion too repeats itself.
To be a gladiator with Olivia Poppe. Wow. A gladiator.
I don’t care for the movie at all, nor its blood soaked spawn, spartacus. The history is fascinating, but the bromance of violence overlooks the life of slavery, of infestation, of pain and fear. Being forced to fight and die, not even or, isn’t romance.
A gladiator is a dude that fights. Gladiator is a funny word.
i jumped off the roof
and there he was
his eyes sinking into mine moving closer
as if i knew him all my life
A gladiator is old thing rarely anyone would know.
the gladiator walked into the coluseum, saw the lion, and dropped dead. what happened?
Gladiatoren – weißt du noch, die Filme mit großen Menschenmengen in aufwändigen Rüstungen. Die Löwen, die hinter Gittern brüllten und der Kaiser auf seinem rotsamtenen und goldenen Thron. Alle warteten darauf, dass er das Startsignal gab, damit das Morden beginnen konnte.
The word “gladiator” always reminds me of Russel Crow. Until therelease of that movie, I had never heard that wrd before. I have never really watched the movie in its entirety but I believe from what I remember about it that it is a good one.
His hands confused me. But he was perfect. And he had fought. But all he was was beautiful.
I remember when she thought she was the hippest sixth grader with her gladiator sandals, because she was into greek mythology at the time. Times have changed I guess, as gladiator sandals became a trend and I suppose so did she.
And as I look into the future, I don’t even know what I should be seeing.
I had a dream that I was a fierce gladiator. Numerous people tried to test their strength against me, and they were all met with the fatal blow of defeat. I was the most known person in the land. Until someone else came.
One fateful spring morning, Mary opened the closet door and found a castle. Mary had seen a few castles on her trip to Europe with her Uncle, but this castle…it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; a grand, white and gold structure with huge towers and lots of stained glass windows. Surrounding the castle was an enormous forest that seemed to stretch on for miles. The trees were large with many thick branches–good for climbing. Mary stared up at them in awe, marveling at the way the sun glanced off of their fragile leaves. At this point, Mary’s head was inside the strange place but her feet remained firmly on the white plush carpeting in the doorframe. “So this is it…” Mary whispered, looking at the beauty around her. Golden birds trilled, rainbow colored fish splashed in a pond full of diamonds. The towering trees had faces, and the beautiful castle seemed to call to her, it’s front door opening to reveal a grand staircase and marble. “One step, and it’s mine!” Mary exclaimed in both excitement and fear. Timidly, slowly, she took two steps into the beautiful world in front of her…
Gladiator of glory, come tell me your story.
Golden. And lions. And noise. Eyes. Waiting for blood, thirsty fists.
At what point did I stop fighting, did I start realizing myself in the margin, the survivor? When did I accept myself as the victim, and not the victor? Because as soon as I gave into the notion, the rest of the world did too.
You have all the weapons you need, girl.
Now stop yer bitchin’ and fight.
“Fight
Fight
Fight
Fight on!”
That is what my beloved brother once told me
To fight like there is no tomorrow
To fight like I am fighting for love
To fight forever and ever,
But I wish to stop this fighting
There seems no point.
None.
Money isn’t something worth fighting for.
He always made fun of my sandals, the flat kind with leather cords that wrapped around my ankles and calves. No one would have ever thought…
All I can think about is those stupid sandals that every chick’s been wearing for a few months now. Ok, not EVERY chick. But for some reason, they tend to end up on the feet of the kind of chick I’d like to kick into the fountain at the mall.
a gladiator is a person who fights somebody… when i think of a gladiator i think of an orange… ya… random… i dont even know… :D
Gladiator reminds me of when Ryan and I used to watch Spartacus together. We were young and so in love, with so much in common. Especially an affinity for sex and fighting. But the good news is I don’t watch it anymore, not since we broke up, so it doesn’t bring me back and make me hurt.
Gladiators remind me of how Ryan and I used to watch Spartacus. Those were good days, and he was a good guy. I still miss him sometimes. I will get over it though, and that day just may be very, very soon. Then again though, you never really get over your first love, or so I hear.
A hundred men stood upon the battle field, surrounded by a thousand spectators – all in it to see blood spilled upon the ground, a show of blood, guts, and bravery. The life of each gladiator was in the hands of the emperor.
Did gladiators eat sandwiches? Did, even once, a gladiator perform water ballet for a nun? Or did gladiators ever kiss one another saying, “My prince, my prince” in falsetto? These are my questions.
fighter
When it comes to my children, I am a gladiator. I will fight to the death. Challenge. Me if you dare! I will take you down.
she walked into the room with a look in her eye i’ve never seen before. a new leaf had turned, and her aura was that of a proud and courageous gladiator.
Slowly, the pair circled each other, limbs twitching slightly as if psyching up to the main event. The bigger of the two was jet black and shining in the afternoon sun. Wolf, they called him. The smaller one, Jackal, had tawny brown hair and chunky legs which tensed suddenly as he sprung into action in a heartbeat. Their arena was a jar, and the cheering audience four freckled boys with their elbows propped up on the long bench. The spider wars had begun.
and as you sat there losing the battle you wished not to surrender to. you were a soldier born to fight and grow with your smile and your strength against all odds. it was you, my gladiator, that conquered the most ground anyone ever had in my heart.
That wolf had something. My mean ole stepmother deserved everything she had coming and then some. She was a horrible woman who exacted misery upon everything she encountered with zeal and alacritude. I’m glad-he-ate-her.
I’m not sure if David and Goliath were gladiator’s but they might as well have been. If they were boxers, they wouldn’t be matched up because of size advantages. That’s not really a good way to match people up. A little guy who knows karate would probably ruin a big dude who’s got no skills.
he never wanted to become a gladiator, when he was a boy, he dreamt about being a gardener. He always loved the color of poppy. It was only later, he decovered their effect – it was too late. now he is a fighter and dreams of a red sea.
Metallic pine needles and sorry silver thimbles cover the bottom of the waste basket. Then there is paper and more paper: whole, crumbled, torn, colored.
None of them are written on.
With my shoulder aching I swing, and swing and swing, clearing a path. There is just a mass of brush in front of me, no light, no clearing but the sword cuts through it all. I am strong and breathing. One day the clearing will come and I will rest. Things will find their places so there won’t be the need to fight and ache. For the moment just turning up and fighting is good enough.